


Love and Other Spectator Sports

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [60]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Awkward Flirting, Blind Date, Embedded Images, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Imagine your OTP, Innuendo, Inspired by Real Events, Internet Famous, Internet Romance, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meet-Cute, Multimedia, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: In which Merlin picks a fight on Twitter, Arthur takes a lot of things too seriously (including cricket), and somehow they manage to live happily ever after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Camelittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Cam! You were one of the first people I spoke to in the Merlin fandom, and instrumental in converting me to the fun that is the Merlin Chatzy, so when I saw your birthday was coming up I knew I had to write something. I remembered [that news story you posted a while back about the Tennis star](http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-38989665) and, well, things kind of snowballed from there. Hope you have a wonderful day! <333
> 
> PS: For convenience, I've also added a text-only version of the story as the second chapter :)
> 
> Many thanks to **pelydryn77** for the beta!

 

 

“You’re joking,” Merlin said, nearly dropping his phone.

 

“Swear to God, mate. It’s all over the telly.”

 

“But — it was just a stupid bet,” Merlin said wildly, his free arm flailing. “I didn’t think he was going to take it _seriously_.” He wedged the receiver between shoulder and ear and pulled up the browser on his laptop, typing in the address for the BBC news website. It took a few clicks, but finally he found it.

 

 

“Oh my god.” 

 

He scrolled down, and sure enough, there were his and Arthur’s tweets for the whole world to see. Beneath his latest — crowing over Arthur’s abject inability to predict the outcome of his own favourite sport — Arthur had responded: 

 

 

“Did he just — is that a _sex joke_?” Merlin hissed, catching the phone as it made another dive towards his desk. “Will. Tell me Arthur Pendragon is not propositioning me over Twitter.”

 

“All right, Arthur Pendragon is not propositioning you over Twitter.” Merlin could hear Will’s laughter through the phone line. “But you might want to wear your lucky pants, just in case.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll be honest,” Merlin said, when Arthur arrived to pick him up on the night of their 'date.' “I don’t actually know anything about cricket.” 

 

“Okay.” Arthur watched him shut the door, waiting until Merlin had done up his seatbelt before signalling the driver with a tap on the glass. “Usually people wait until after the first date to tell me that, but I’ll give you points for initiative.”

 

Merlin flushed, glad the darkness hid his burning cheeks. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

 

“And what idea would that be?” He caught the gleam of white teeth through the darkness. “That you’re actually impressed by what I do for a living? Pretty sure that ship has already sailed, _Wizard Boy_.”

 

Mortified, Merlin slid down in his seat. It was true that the two of them hadn’t exactly hit it off online, at least to start with. Merlin, the only son of a struggling single mother and a lifelong shirker of all things physical education, had never understood why professional cricketers should be paid such ridiculous sums of money for what basically amounted to hitting balls with sticks for other people’s entertainment. Arthur had taken offence at this characterisation of, as he called it, “a noble tradition of sportsmanship,” and Merlin had called him a stuck-up wanker and a prat. Several times.

 

It was possible that Merlin was a little bitter. It was also possible that things might have gotten a bit out of hand. The upshot of it all was that Merlin had bet Arthur a date at his favourite restaurant that his rival team would win their next game, something Arthur had reliably assured him wasn’t within the bounds of possibility.

 

At least he wasn't a sore loser.

 

“I’m sure it takes a lot of skill,” he offered, though it came out sounding weak to his own ears. “Catching all those…balls, and everything.”

 

Arthur snorted. “You’re right, you really don’t know anything about cricket,” he said. “But I’m inclined to forgive you if it means you'll say ‘balls’ like that again.”

 

Merlin let out a whine and slumped further against the leather seat. This time, there was no mistake: Arthur Pendragon was definitely flirting with him, and despite all his claims to the contrary, Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t want to start flirting back. 

 

How was this his life?

 

  

* * *

 

 

When they pulled up in front of the restaurant, flashbulbs immediately started going off, sparkling in the city street like fireworks. Apparently their little internet ‘romance’ had attracted the media’s attention. Arthur stood patiently until Merlin got out of the car and walked up beside him, then reached over and took his hand in a gentle grip, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“Is this all right?” he asked quietly, looking up at Merlin with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Merlin wanted to say no, since he was pretty sure he was on the verge of hyperventilating: already his head was spinning just from the warmth of Arthur’s hand in his, his breathing had gone funny and within minutes, possibly less, there were going to be pictures of the two of them all over the internet and oh god, he wasn’t _ready_ for that. 

 

What he actually said was, “I’m game if you are,” and he wasn’t sure whether it was the cameras or Arthur’s blinding smile that made the spots dance in front of his eyes. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was…weirdly not awkward. In person, Arthur was no less of a prat than he was online, but he was also completely gorgeous, which went some way towards softening the blow. It also helped that every so often he would say or do something that made Merlin wonder whether the pratliness was just how he’d been raised, since all signs pointed to there being an actual genuine human being underneath. It almost made him regret having been so rude to Arthur when they’d spoken online. Almost.

 

The conversation ranged from school — Merlin was studying towards his Masters — to jobs — Arthur explained exactly what it was like being an athletic superstar 24/7 (his words, not Merlin’s) — and back to their families, before petering out somewhere around dessert. The subject of his father seemed to have made Arthur contemplative, and he was frowning into his tiramisu like it had done something to personally offend him. 

 

“You know, I didn’t even know you were gay,” Merlin blurted, trying to find some way to regain his attention. He winced. “Sorry. Not that it matters, or anything. I mean, I would have cared, but not _cared_ cared, but…” He gave up. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

 

Arthur took a deep breath. “Well, there’s a reason for that,” he said. “I’m not out.”

 

Merlin choked. “You — what — sorry?” he spluttered, trying to swallow and suck in air at the same time. “But — Twitter! We held hands! There were _photographers_.”

 

Arthur handed him a glass of water with a slight smile on his face, looking torn between embarrassment and amusement at Merlin’s predicament. “Well, I’m out _now_ ,” he clarified, while Merlin regained his breath. “But I wasn’t before — not officially. My coach nearly lost it when I accepted your bet, and my father went through the roof, but I told them I wasn’t going to hide anymore.”

 

His jaw was set with determination, and Merlin felt a flutter of something warm and silly in the pit of his stomach, even as his heart sank with disappointment.

 

“So this is just, what,” Merlin looked down at his plate and started picking at the edges, “some kind of big coming out gesture? A ‘fuck you, let me out of the closet’ sort of thing?”

 

“Maybe.” Arthur grinned crookedly. “That’s certainly _one_ of the benefits, I have to admit. But the night’s still young.”

 

He looked at Merlin then, a quick, shy glance from under his lashes, and Merlin’s disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come. “So it is,” he said, picking up his glass of wine to hide his smile. “But I’m sure we can think of something to make it worth your time.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. (text only version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second verse, same as the first. But text only, this time.

 

 

“You’re joking,” Merlin said, nearly dropping his phone.

 

“Swear to God, mate. It’s all over the telly.”

 

“But — it was just a stupid bet,” Merlin said wildly, his free arm flailing. “I didn’t think he was going to take it _seriously_.” He wedged the receiver between shoulder and ear and pulled up the browser on his laptop, typing in the address for the BBC news website. It took a few clicks, but finally he found it.

 

CRICKET STAR ARTHUR PENDRAGON TO HONOUR 'BLIND DATE' BET.

 

“Oh my god.” 

 

He scrolled down, and sure enough, there were his and Arthur’s tweets for the whole world to see. Beneath his latest — crowing over Arthur’s abject inability to predict the outcome of his own favourite sport — Arthur had responded: 

   

> KING_ARTHUR: **@wizardboy**  Guess it's time to pay the piper. Just tell me where & when.

  

“Did he just — is that a _sex joke_?” Merlin hissed, catching the phone as it made another dive towards his desk. “Will. Tell me Arthur Pendragon is not propositioning me over Twitter.”

 

“All right, Arthur Pendragon is not propositioning you over Twitter.” Merlin could hear Will’s laughter through the phone line. “But you might want to wear your lucky pants, just in case.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll be honest,” Merlin said, when Arthur arrived to pick him up on the night of their 'date.' “I don’t actually know anything about cricket.” 

 

“Okay.” Arthur watched him shut the door, waiting until Merlin had done up his seatbelt before signalling the driver with a tap on the glass. “Usually people wait until after the first date to tell me that, but I’ll give you points for initiative.”

 

Merlin flushed, glad the darkness hid his burning cheeks. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

 

“And what idea would that be?” He caught the gleam of white teeth through the darkness. “That you’re actually impressed by what I do for a living? Pretty sure that ship has already sailed, _Wizard Boy_.”

 

Mortified, Merlin slid down in his seat. It was true that the two of them hadn’t exactly hit it off online, at least to start with. Merlin, the only son of a struggling single mother and a lifelong shirker of all things physical education, had never understood why professional cricketers should be paid such ridiculous sums of money for what basically amounted to hitting balls with sticks for other people’s entertainment. Arthur had taken offence at this characterisation of, as he called it, “a noble tradition of sportsmanship,” and Merlin had called him a stuck-up wanker and a prat. Several times.

 

It was possible that Merlin was a little bitter. It was also possible that things might have gotten a bit out of hand. The upshot of it all was that Merlin had bet Arthur a date at his favourite restaurant that his rival team would win their next game, something Arthur had reliably assured him wasn’t within the bounds of possibility.

 

At least he wasn't a sore loser.

 

“I’m sure it takes a lot of skill,” he offered, though it came out sounding weak to his own ears. “Catching all those…balls, and everything.”

 

Arthur snorted. “You’re right, you really don’t know anything about cricket,” he said. “But I’m inclined to forgive you if it means you'll say ‘balls’ like that again.”

 

Merlin let out a whine and slumped further against the leather seat. This time, there was no mistake: Arthur Pendragon was definitely flirting with him, and despite all his claims to the contrary, Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t want to start flirting back. 

 

How was this his life?

 

  

* * *

 

 

When they pulled up in front of the restaurant, flashbulbs immediately started going off, sparkling in the city street like fireworks. Apparently their little internet ‘romance’ had attracted the media’s attention. Arthur stood patiently until Merlin got out of the car and walked up beside him, then reached over and took his hand in a gentle grip, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“Is this all right?” he asked quietly, looking up at Merlin with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Merlin wanted to say no, since he was pretty sure he was on the verge of hyperventilating: already his head was spinning just from the warmth of Arthur’s hand in his, his breathing had gone funny and within minutes, possibly less, there were going to be pictures of the two of them all over the internet and oh god, he wasn’t _ready_ for that. 

 

What he actually said was, “I’m game if you are,” and he wasn’t sure whether it was the cameras or Arthur’s blinding smile that made the spots dance in front of his eyes. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was…weirdly not awkward. In person, Arthur was no less of a prat than he was online, but he was also completely gorgeous, which went some way towards softening the blow. It also helped that every so often he would say or do something that made Merlin wonder whether the pratliness was just how he’d been raised, since all signs pointed to there being an actual genuine human being underneath. It almost made him regret having been so rude to Arthur when they’d spoken online. Almost.

 

The conversation ranged from school — Merlin was studying towards his Masters — to jobs — Arthur explained exactly what it was like being an athletic superstar 24/7 (his words, not Merlin’s) — and back to their families, before petering out somewhere around dessert. The subject of his father seemed to have made Arthur contemplative, and he was frowning into his tiramisu like it had done something to personally offend him. 

 

“You know, I didn’t even know you were gay,” Merlin blurted, trying to find some way to regain his attention. He winced. “Sorry. Not that it matters, or anything. I mean, I would have cared, but not _cared_ cared, but…” He gave up. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

 

Arthur took a deep breath. “Well, there’s a reason for that,” he said. “I’m not out.”

 

Merlin choked. “You — what — sorry?” he spluttered, trying to swallow and suck in air at the same time. “But — Twitter! We held hands! There were _photographers_.”

 

Arthur handed him a glass of water with a slight smile on his face, looking torn between embarrassment and amusement at Merlin’s predicament. “Well, I’m out _now_ ,” he clarified, while Merlin regained his breath. “But I wasn’t before — not officially. My coach nearly lost it when I accepted your bet, and my father went through the roof, but I told them I wasn’t going to hide anymore.”

 

His jaw was set with determination, and Merlin felt a flutter of something warm and silly in the pit of his stomach, even as his heart sank with disappointment.

 

“So this is just, what,” Merlin looked down at his plate and started picking at the edges, “some kind of big coming out gesture? A ‘fuck you, let me out of the closet’ sort of thing?”

 

“Maybe.” Arthur grinned crookedly. “That’s certainly _one_ of the benefits, I have to admit. But the night’s still young.”

 

He looked at Merlin then, a quick, shy glance from under his lashes, and Merlin’s disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come. “So it is,” he said, picking up his glass of wine to hide his smile. “But I’m sure we can think of something to make it worth your time.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

WIZARDBOY: **@king_arthur** Bet you a blowjob your team doesn't make it to the finals.   

> KING_ARTHUR:  **@wizardboy** Bet you whatever's in that jewellery box under the bed we do.

WIZARDBOY:  **@king_arthur** ARTHUR DID YOU JUST PROPOSE VIA TWITTER

WIZARDBOY:  **@king_arthur** ARTHUR PENDRAGON DID YOU JUST BET ON OUR ENGAGEMENT  

> KING_ARTHUR:  **@wizardboy** That depends. Are you going to give me an answer if I did?

WIZARDBOY:  **@king_arthur**...you better fucking hope you win.


End file.
